


The Fenghuang

by primeideal



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Technobabble, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Never meet your heroes.





	The Fenghuang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verdarach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdarach/gifts).



> Because Ao3 is being even more ridiculous than normal for this exchange, I can't tell whether:
> 
> -I got assigned to you but didn't get an e-mail about it  
> -my assigned recip is also your assigned author, and Ao3 just wanted to tell me about it  
> -a friendly AI inside the matching algorithm just really wants me to see your requests  
> -none of the above
> 
> but here is a fic anyway, which of course you are under no obligation to read or enjoy.

The problem with Titan, Nishang decided, was that it was _boring_.

That wasn’t strictly true. The gravity was much lower than the artificial field at L12 Station, and she could always amuse herself by tossing archival sticks in the air, flicking them around, and pretending she could juggle.

But there was no one to talk to. At least at L12, there were other Elegists to smile furtively at, having some small understanding of their burdens and joys, even if the mission details were classified. They wouldn’t even let her bring an IZ unit to Titan, in case the technology leaked.

Maybe it was for the best, Nishang thought. The IZs were good company, but they were programmed to stay on-task. They would definitely not approve of her getting this close.

It wasn’t her fault! The thick nitrogen made the smog difficult to see through. How was she to know that the _Fenghuang_ ’s crew, instead of using infrared goggles like any well-equipped team, were stupid enough to try to terraforming the moon themselves by releasing tensor particles? Really, it was a wonder any of them had survived at all.

Nishang paced over to the computer and rotated the remote nanorecorder a few degrees towards the surface. There was a signal—the steady _blip, blip, blip_ of the _Fenghuang_ ’s backup rockets.

Cursing under her breath, Nishang did another frequency scan. There!

“This _is_ an order,” barked Commander Lee, in the archaic accent Nishang knew so well. “The oxygen reserves will not last us until the Shepherd Junction.”

“They will,” said Mission Specialist Suen. “We’ve run the projections twice—”

“The projections were using...” Lee mentioned something Nishang didn’t recognize. The old metric standard units? “They didn’t account for the ring synchronicity nor the tensors.”

“This is about you,” Lieutenant Lam snapped, “you and your need to play the hero—”

“I am not playing at anything,” Lee said quietly. It was mostly the age of the dialect that made it sound overly formal, yet Nishang would have found it poetic in any era. “If you will not follow orders, I authorize MS Suen to be secondary deputy until—the crisis is past.”

“Computer,” Nishang hissed, “save and archive on DH1, continue to record on DH3.” This was better than she could have hoped for! Not only was there incontrovertible evidence of Lee’s intent, but the recordings would also explain the discrepancy with Suen’s authority. A flashing amber light indicated that her order was being carried out.

Commander Lee was having less success with her orders. “The mobile tanks are too bulky,” MS Ko noted. “They’ll only weigh us down when we need fuel for liftoff.”

Lee hesitated only for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll take atmoreadings here.”

“Here?” Suen echoed.

“Good as anywhere else, isn’t it?” She glanced up at the hazy sky. “And better than Earth.”

_Better than Earth_. Suen and the others had been telling the truth, even if they did not understand it in full. Commander Lee had not had a death wish, nor had she been fonder of the inhospitable moon than her lifegiving homeland. But to have the opportunity to soar through its sky, take in its marvels firsthand, hoping to leave behind a livable world for others—that had been worth her life.

It would not come to pass, of course. The _Fenghuang_ would return to the Shepherd Junction bitterly divided, Lam not completely accepting Suen’s leadership. History would at first praise the selfless commander, then turn to criticizing Mission Control’s decisions, until glorifying Lee was seen as shallow, juvenile hero-worship. And no one had been rash enough to send humans to Titan again.

Well, not in Nishang’s history. Even Elegists didn’t have wormholes letting them go _forward_.

_I’ll take atmoreadings here…_ There would still be a functioning computer chip. Even if L12 didn’t have technology old enough to read it, she could arrange to find something that would on her next jump. There was so little surviving from the _Fenghuang_. Wouldn’t any record of Titan’s atmosphere be a prize?

The IZ units would never have allowed it. But the IZs weren’t there.

Nishang, who jumped centuries at a whim, found herself impatient waiting for an hour to pass. There were no specifics on Lee’s oxygen reserves, but even she would not have tortured herself indefinitely. She would have relented, sought peace.

Finally, unable to bear the waiting, Nishang threw on her terrasuit. It was, of course, much less weighty than the _Fenghuang_ ’s antiquated technology, even if it was only good for short stints. She’d had to replace the arm units after a debacle on Luna with some Pan-Australasian Alliance spies.

Then she hustled across the moon’s surface, trying not to be distracted by the streaks of orange and blue across the sky. There would be true-color images to browse at her leisure, she reminded herself. She had a job to do.

Nishang gently raised Lee’s numb arm and slipped the recorder from her wrist. But as she turned to go back to her ship, she heard a voice, as faint as it was ancient. “Though you are but a mirage, still your presence would give me comfort.”

Lee.

Lee, imagining her as a dying dream, not knowing that she really would live to carry the chip into the future.

Lee, _alive_.

Slinging the chip around her own shoulder, Nishang knelt beside the Commander’s half-airless frame. She was _definitely_ going to get kicked out of L12 for this, if she ever made it back.

She found she didn’t care.

Lee and the mobile tank were, indeed, painfully heavy; only the low gravity made it feasible. For a moment Nishang considered trying to hook up her own terrasuit instead, leaving behind the outdated technology, but she didn’t want to risk a mishap in the limited time. At last, she struggled aboard her unit, and rapidly stripped off Lee’s suit, exposing her to the unit’s oxygen generators. She listened for a breath—faint, very faint, but there. Thank any gods listening for that. She wasn’t sure _what_ she would do if she brought a fresh, centuries-dead corpse back to L12.

Then she began the egress procedures. They’d have to be some distance away from the Saturn bases before they could deploy the wormhole. Another silly precaution, but probably a worthwhile one.

At last, Nishang heard the thrilling sounds of Lee’s thick accent. “For a psychopomp, you seem quite humanoid.”

“Ssh.” Nishang said. “You’re alive, you’re safe.”

“Who…?” Lee trailed off, slowly sitting up and coughing. “Where am I?”

“Uh, a spaceship,” Nishang said, unhelpfully. “Think it’s called a P4-B unit. I’ll explain later.”

“You’re real? Are you CNSA?”

“Sort of. Not really. Look—how did you survive, without air?”

“Had air,” Lee said. “Rationed. Slowly. The data—”

“It’s here,” Nishang said, quickly reaching for the computer, “it’s here.”

Lee shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Just rest. I’ll get you some water.” Nishang paced across the P4-B, reaching for the provisions. The wormhole drive had nearly booted.

“The crew,” Lee said, as soon as she had gulped some down. “On their way to Shepherd, can you help them?”

“They make it,” Nishang said. “They’re safe, they’re all okay. Well, maybe not Lam’s ego.”

“ _What_ are you?” Lee demanded. “Are you human?”

“Entirely,” Nishang said, realizing that this was a woman who was used to having her orders accepted. “I’m from the future.”

“That...that’s not possible.”

“You’re a legend now. You—people couldn’t believe you sacrificed yourself like that, and the drones never found your body.” Nishang suppressed a laugh. “I guess this is why.”

Lee breathed slowly, as much savoring the air as parsing the baffling news. “Is this one of those things where you need to put me back where I was so as not to disturb space and time?”

“I hope not,” said Nishang. “Do you want to see the future?”

Lee stared down at her computer chip, then at the ship’s computer, at Lee. “Yes.”

Nishang smiled, and the wormhole surged into life.


End file.
